50 Reasons
by Kahmelion
Summary: 50 One-shots/drabbles around Hikari and Shinji ranging from humorous to dramatic, from the Alternate to Pokemon universe; these are 50 reasons to live.
1. Intro

**An Introduction from the Author**

After several debates, I've decided I will try to maintain another fanfiction.

Although this particular one has no plot, I'm aiming towards 50 one-shots or drabbles since they're much easier to write.

The topic will depend on my mood at that time, so will the length and wordcount. I _might _write about other couples, but for the most part, I'll stick with Ikarishipping, I'm the best at that couple anyways, and now I know that that's the couple I want to write most about anyways. But, still, be on guard for other pairings.

This will not be on my obligations list as it is with _With Nowhere to Go_, I'll upload a chapter when I feel like it. That means that I might not update regularly. For all I know, this might go on for 3 years.

But, enjoy anyways.


	2. Snow

**Author's Note:** I think I'll start off with Ikarishipping since I'm most familiar with it. *sob* I'm so unoriginal. Happy Reading. Oh, and seriously… Merry Christmas.

_It's too beautiful, beautiful day_

_Make it a good day_

_Don't make me cry_

–_Good Day, IU_

**Snow**

Hikari hated the snow.

She hated how it was all white and lonely, and all it did was make everything colder; and Hikari hated the cold. The snow made her long for summer and her short sleeved shirts and shorts. She wanted ice cream and walks along the beach with her friends. All the snow did was make her realize how utterly alone she was.

This winter, her mother had made reservations in Hotel Grand Lake, one of the most popular resorts in Sinnoh, and had dragged her there to take a break from all her pokemon battles and contests, but she had vehemently protested. She just simply could not see what was so good about a view of a lake.

This day in particular was quite freezing but her mother had kicked her out and told her to "get some air" as she put it. Hikari was pretty sure that all her mother wanted was some alone time with that man she'd met while they were staying there. So all Hikari had at hand was her Pochama's pokeball and a few hundred Pokedollars.

She sat at a nearby bench, letting her Pochama out so he could play for a bit in the snow (because he loved it, something that she had found quite ironic) and pondered about her misfortune.

Her shoulders were hunched and her mitten clad hands were shoved into the pockets of her pink winter coat. She continued grumbling to no one in particular about the cold as people blurred past until her stomach started growling.

Hikari had tried to steer clear of the Seven Star Restaurant her mother had praised so highly. She'd spotted it when they had driven to the hotel and just by looking at it, she knew with one look that it was one of those places that gave you a small serving and charged you tons; but at this point, she was getting quite desperate for a warm place to loiter in.

She grudgingly shuffled over to the entrance, one arm around Pochama as he fought to play a bit longer in the terrible snow.

"Can't you be still for just a _moment_?" She hissed. The warmth rushed over her as she stepped inside and she could smell the delicious aroma of the different exotic foods being served. Pochama stopped struggling then.

A light blush brushed past her face as a rather charming waiter asked for her coat (she was quite unused to such frivolous acts of chivalry, even though he was being paid to do it).

"Are you going to meet anyone in particular?" He asked, and she looked around for a bit as she counted the number of couples scattered around the room. It was then that she realized it was Christmas Eve, and she wished that she would've just stayed with her mother.

"Well," Hikari started as she spotted a familiar face, "actually, I was going to meet up with that guy… right there." She smirked slightly as the waiter turned to look at where she was pointing.

This was going to be _quite_ interesting.

He led her over to her "acquaintance" and said in an extremely polite tone, "Sir, your dinner date has arrived."

She tried and failed to hide a smirk as she sat in the chair opposite of Shinji the waiter had pulled out for her. "I hope you don't mind that I'm late." she said in a slightly teasing tone.

He just rolled his eyes and muttered "Whatever" before disappearing behind the huge menu he was holding.

"I'll be back with an extra menu and silverware, ma'am." The waiter said. "Oh, don't worry." Hikari said in a cheerful tone, waving him off, "I'll just share the menu with Shinji, I'm sure he won't mind. Isn't that right?" He didn't answer.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice me." Shinji said suddenly as the waiter walked off to fetch her some silverware, "Only you would be able to think of something like this." She smiled at that.

"Oh, so you _do_ recognize my face." Hikari said; the thought lifted her mood considerably. They'd met often even after she had stopped traveling with Satoshi, but whenever they bumped into each other coincidentally, he often acted as though she were a complete stranger; though she hoped that he was only acting.

Shinji looked over her disdainfully and rudely stated that it would be hard not to remember hair as blue as hers at which she simply stuck her tongue out.

After a few minutes of coaxing Pochama back into his ball which earned lots of eye-rolling from Shinji, she snatched the menu from his hands and started flipping through it. All he did was sigh.

Hikari often wished that he would react a bit more, which was the purpose of surprising him with her visit in the first place, but he always managed to successfully keep his mask securely in place. She was now 19, and it had become a sort of goal for her as opposed to when they had first met at age 11 when all she wanted was for him to remember her name correctly.

The waiter finally came back with her silverware and asked if they had found something they wanted to eat yet. Both of them placed their orders and just as it seemed like everything was going to go perfectly normal Hikari asked for their wine selection.

As soon as the waiter left, Hikari caught Shinji staring at her.

"What?" She asked as though she had no idea why Shinji was looking at her with a weird expression.

"Wine?" He asked.

"Is there a problem?" Hikari asked with an innocent smile as she spread the silk napkin over her lap.

"Aren't you, like, 15 or something?" He asked her to which she said in an offended tone, "I'm 19, actually." "And that makes a difference… how?"

"It's fine." She said, waving him off, "It's not like I've never done this before, and you're what? 24 or something?" "I'm 21, actually." He answered, though she already knew.

"Exactly." She said as though that fixed all of their problems.

Shinji looked like he was ready to argue, but the waiter had come back with the wine selections and had asked for an ID to which Shinji reluctantly handed over his trainer card as he saw the expectant expression on Hikari's face.

"You've done this before?" He asked her, revealing a little bit of his curiosity when they had picked their wine and the waiter had walked away.

"At this day and age," Hikari scoffed, "the drinking age should be lowered to 18; especially for a social person like me. I've got the fake ID and everything." "Isn't that, I don't know, _illegal_?" Shinji asked. Hikari stared at him pointedly with a 'what's-your-point' expression written all over her face. He decided not to press the matter after that.

Dinner arrived a lot earlier than Hikari had expected and few minutes after that the wine appeared.

She clapped her hands softly as the waiter expertly poured wine into her glass. She tentatively sipped a bit before sighing in satisfaction.

They spent their dinner with lots of annoyingly personal questions from Hikari and curt answers from Shinji. ('What's your favorite color? Food? Pokemon?' 'None of your business.')

After a while, the questions became a bit uncomfortable to answer ('Are you still a virgin?' "Where can you come up with a question like that!') and Shinji realized that she was quite drunk; after all, she'd drank 4 whole glasses of wine. Her speech was a little bit slurred and her face was very red.

He quickly waved the waiter over and asked for a check and after all was paid for (obviously Shinji paid for Hikari's though he muttered something about making her pay back double when she was sober), he put one arm around her waist and one of her arms around his neck and hefted her up, accepted the coat she had handed to the waiter, and dragged her out of the restaurant.

"Seriously," he said, as he packed a snowball so she could cool her face down, "what am I going to do with you?"

"Well, I can't go home in this state." Hikari said, lying back on the bench with her head tilted up towards the sky, "My mother would kill me." "It's not like you don't deserve it." He said, making no effort to hide it.

"Oh, shut up," She snapped and hurry up and hand me a snowball, my head hurts like hell."

He rolled his eyes and with a sigh handed her what looked a little bit like a ball.

Hikari snorted at the sad attempt, but accepted it graciously anyways. Shivers ran through her body as she gently placed the snowball on her temple.

"Better?" He grunted. "Much," she sighed, "Thanks."

He patted the snow off his pants as he rose and made a move to walk away.

"You're really going to leave a vulnerable 19 year old girl alone in the middle of the night?" Hikari asked in a tone full of disbelief. "You have your little penguin friend." He pointed out. She just raised her eyebrows and patted the empty space on the bench next to her. He hesitated a little bit before he sat down a little further away than Hikari would've liked.

As stated before, she hated the cold.

Hikari stared at the falling flakes for a few minutes before she sprawled across the bench, resting her head on Shinji's leg.

"Seriously?" He said in a monotone voice.

Hikari gave him a tiny smile and he noticed her eyes become just a bit of a brighter blue. She shut her eyes to the falling snow and said, "I hate the snow." A comment that caught him off guard.

"That's weird," He said, "I'd think you'd love the snow. It just seems like you."

"Winter's a bitch and snow's her bastard." She muttered in a disgusted tone.

The corner of Shinji's mouth twitched upward. He couldn't help it. "I think it's alright." He said simply.

She tilted her head curiously, staring at him, before closing his eyes once more. There was a pause as the earth slowed down and Hikari took in everything around her. Suddenly, she smiled.

"What?" Shinji asked, amusement coloring his voice.

"I feel like Sleeping Beauty." She laughed.

He looked down at her.

Her long lashes were coated with snow and her rosy cheeks stood out against her pale skin framed by her cobalt hair. To him, she looked more like Snow White. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, and Shinji could feel himself drown in them.

"So, what happened to my handsome prince who'll whisk me away after kissing me from my sleep?" she asked teasingly.

He simply covered her face with her coat and grunted at her to go home.

And although she knew it was just a joke, she wished he'd actually did it.

Finally, he led her back home to a worried mother and without either of them looking back, they parted ways.

The next morning, Hikari looked out the window and let out a sigh as she saw the light snow falling from the sky. She absentmindedly stared out the glass pane with a head on her hand. As she stared, she spotted a familiar silhouette in the white and wiped her window for a clearer image.

She stared at Shinji, not strangely out of place in the snow as he walked step by step, further away from her hotel room. She was sure that he was getting ready to leave Grand Lake Hotel and was a little disappointed that she wouldn't be able to spend more time with him. Who knew how long it was before they would coincidentally meet again?

Then, as though he could feel her stare piercing his back, he turned around and their gazes locked.

After a stunned silence, she put up an overly cheerful smile and waved at him enthusiastically before blowing him a teasing kiss. She laughed as she imagined him rolling his eyes.

He simply turned around and continued walking.

Soon, all that was left was his footprints in the snow, and Hikari sighed as her thoughts started drifting to different topics.

She still hated the cold.

She still hated the snow.

But at least it didn't remind her of loneliness anymore.


	3. Darts

**Author's Note:** Cheesiness overblow! I love messing with Hikari and Shinji's characters (I really am more comfortable using the English names, but I really don't like the name Paul and Dawn, sorry). I'm going to be doing mostly Ikari oneshots/drabbles with the occasional other couples. Sorry for the whole vagueness of this chapter. I was just experimenting (and trying to get rid of the awkward way I write) so you might not understand a _thing_; but it's so full of fluff how could you _not_ like it? (besides the, you know, OOC, and the cheese…)

**Darts**

It's a nice, sunny day.

Too nice to pass.

She's sprawled under the never-ending blue sky, the grass brushing against her bare skin like a dream whenever the breeze sighs. The only thing she can hear are the Starlys' cooing and the occasional Pachirisu as its claws scratch away at the bark of a particular poor, unfortunate tree.

Hikari sighs in contentment and closes her eyes as she thinks she could stay here forever.

But she can't.

She knows that.

And so does _that_ person.

Both her hands are on her chest and she can feel her own heart's thumping, and as footsteps disturb the peaceful rhythm of the day, she can feel it thud faster and faster.

He's right behind her, she knows, and she opens her eyes and smiles up at his scowl.

"Are you going to stay here forever?" He asks in his usual cold tone, but she knows better than that; so she doesn't bother getting offended.

"Today's going to be a good day." Hikari states simply, to Shinji's annoyance.

He looks up to the sky to see just what's so good about it.

"I suppose it's a nice day." He murmurs.

Hikari smiles as she catches on. She loved this game after all –this game of darts. Every time Shinji missed, she always seemed to hit the mark. And so she plays along, because it's what they do. Nowadays, it's the _only_ thing they do, but neither mind.

"It is." She agrees, closing her eyes once again in pure bliss, "The sun is shining and sky is the perfect blue. I especially love the clouds."

_(I love how I'm spending this day with you)_

"The clouds are all right."

_(I suppose I'm happy spending it with you too)_

"I can see a Buneary." Her eyes are still closed, but he doesn't bother pointing that out.

_(Let's do this every day. Together)_

All he does is grunt.

_(Whatever)_

"Let's go." He says and the game is over.

Hikari's eyebrows scrunch together, dissatisfied at today's session of darts. Besides, she was happy lying here amongst all the peace and quiet. She would've thought that he would be too.

"Can't we stay here a bit longer?" She asks. She's no longer playing the game either.

"We have to get to the next city in less than two days." He states, "There's no more time for lying around in the grass. I thought you were going to be entering in that _contest_ there too?" She frowns at that, but gets up anyways, getting his point.

"But this place is really beautiful." Hikari starts.

_(I want to come back)_

"We'll come back next time." He mumbles.

Hikari's eyebrow rises in confusion at his directness, but it makes her happy that he doesn't really need to play the game anymore. Well, while they aren't playing it anymore…

She grabs his arm and pulls him down, whispering, "I like you" giggling and prancing away right after and admiring Shinji's still oh so indiscernible expression.

"Hn." He lets out, but Hikari is not disappointed.

Instead, as Shinji starts walking towards their next destination, she put on a small smile and chases after him. So, maybe he still has to play darts every now and again…

_(I like you too…)_


	4. Flowers

**Author's Note:** It's really random…

_When I wake up, the dream isn't done  
__I wanna see your face and know I made it home  
__If nothing is true, what more can I do?  
__I am still painting flowers for you  
__-Painting Flowers, All Time Low_

**Flowers**

Sometimes she wants to hurl a dish at the wall.

Hoping that all the frustration will go away if she hears all those tiny pieces clatter to the floor.

And sometimes she wants to grab his hand and give it a little squeeze; to let him know that she's here, with no plan of leaving.

But mostly, she just remains neutral about the whole subject.

What's going on between them?

She doesn't know.

It just sort of happened.

She knows how she feels; and she thinks she knows how he feels. For certain she knows that he knows how she feels, but neither of them want to admit it.

Neither of them _can_ admit it.

Because they're both too damn scared.

Of what?

She doesn't make an effort to find out.

She _likes_ how they are right now.

Not friends- a bit more than that-, but not lovers- never. And the way they can comfortably hold hands- kiss, hug- without having any sort of responsibility for each other- besides him trying to keep her alive, 'cause she's troublesome like that.

So she just keeps all this to herself; because she's too scared. Too scared to confront him about it.

'Just what are we exactly?' she'd ask in this demanding tone she _knows_ annoys him, 'Why do I follow you everywhere? Why can't I let go of your hand? Why does _every damn thing_ remind me of _you_?'

'_Why do you let everything remind me of you?_'

But she can't ask him that.

Because if she does, she's sure he won't answer; because she knows if he knew she was worrying about this, they wouldn't be able to hold hands anymore- kiss, hug.

And that's the last thing she wants.

And that's the last thing he wants.

Truthfully, he likes it.

He likes how she worries about it (because he found out about this inner turmoil of hers long ago; really, it's almost surreal how easily he can read her).

It means she thinks about him 24/7.

Sometimes when she's having a particularly weird nightmare, (like her Pokemon are actually, sincerely getting abducted by Team Rocket- like that'll ever happen) the only thing she can call out is his name.

He doesn't smile; in fact, his face is unresponsive (like always), but he _does_ lean in closer; just because he wants to hear it as clearly as possible.

He likes how she says his name.

Everyone else says it as though it's something distasteful, or something to be revered, or a bit too sweetly for his taste.

She manages to make it sound… natural.

He's grown attached to how she says it; how the 'P' isn't accented and how the 'L' makes her tongue roll ever so slightly.

But of course, she can't know that.

Because sooner or later, he's going to leave to become a world champion, and she's going to have to stay here, home, where it's safe; where she doesn't have to live in an uncomfortable lifestyle of sleeping in the woods and fearing for her safety.

He knows she'll fight.

Oh, she'll throw tantrums and scream until her voice is hoarse and she can't speak his name anymore and threaten to pull out all the delicate strands of blue that he likes to run his fingers through oh so much.

But he knows he'll leave her when the day comes.

Whenever that is.

He keeps postponing that day.

'I still have things to do here' he says, trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

'That's right,' she thinks to herself, 'he needs me around.'

Who's going to stop him from overexerting himself when he trains?

Who's going to dress the cuts and bruises he gets from going through an especially rough day of traveling?

Who's going to sew all the rips in his clothing and take care of him when he's gotten into another _stupid_ fight for acting like a little kid and… and…

And she's crying while she tells this to herself, because once she's gone, he won't _have_ to overexert him from training, because he's training his Pokemon to protect _her_.

And he gets those cuts and bruises because he's helping _her_ travel, and he's getting into all those fights because some random pervert made some kind of move towards her.

So she can't bring herself to fight when he reminds her one sunny, cloudless day that he's going to be a champion someday.

'I know.' She says, looking at him with those piercing sapphire eyes.

He feels rooted to the spot.

He'd prepared himself for _something_.

Usually, he's right about her.

No, not usually.

_Always_.

But he doesn't say anything.

They just head towards their next destination.

And when they arrive back to her house; that familiar house that'd always welcome her back with metaphoric, opening arms, she can't bring herself to look back, because she's afraid she'll start fighting.

And she doesn't want that.

And he doesn't want that.

So he leaves.

Just like that.

And years later, when she's moved out of her small town and into a big city, (the city that he used to live in) she's holding a handful of flowers.

No one gave them to her, (though a few have tried) she bought them herself.

The scent of roses and violets and orchids intermingle.

She just felt that that day of all days was a good day to buy some flowers.

A gut feeling.

And she always goes by gut feeling. It's been her thing. Something he never understood about her.

But he's glad she does it now, because as she feels someone grab her wrist in the busy streets of the stone city, she whips her head around and feels herself being caught in those cold, hard eyes that used to be familiar; in a long ago memory.

And she's goes back to the beginning.

That feeling of wanting to throw a dish at a wall.

Or maybe it's that feeling of wanting to hold his hand?

Something in between.

All she can do is tighten her grasp on her flowers.

She feels the thorns digging into the palms of her hands and the leaves scratching gently against her wrist, but the only thing she's thinking about as she pushes those flowers towards his face, is how much he's changed.

How scared she is of not being able to go back to the beginning.

Where holding hands was okay- kissing, hugging.

And her worries are swept away.

When in the middle of the street.

Where no one has time to stare at them.

He pulls them into a kiss.


	5. Fairytales

**Author's Note:** I'd like to think that Hikari is a down to earth kind of person; all no nonsense. She's completely out of character of course, but you know, that's the pleasure of fanfiction.

P.S. I don't really have a song that goes with this…

**Fairytales**

In her mind, fairytales were nonexistent.

There was no such thing as 'Once upon a time…' and they definitely never ended with '…happily ever after.' It was just something incomprehensible for her. No unfortunate maiden ever got to end up with a handsome prince. If the world turned that way, there would be too many princes in the world.

In the end, the only thing that drove the existence of such frivolous stories was hope.

And she was sick of hope.

The amount of room that reality took up in the universe made no room for intangible feelings as hope. Not like anger, and hurt; because really, that's all she ever felt with him these days.

She supposes she was tired.

They were both tired.

It wasn't of each other (at least she hopes it wasn't). But living out in the wild did drastic things to people. And that's when she decided, there was no such thing as fairytales.

She was tired of empty promises of destinations and full meals and nice housing. She was getting tired of pretending that she was actually strong enough to endure sleeping on rocks every night. And she was _definitely_ getting tired of telling herself that she was only following him around to prove a point.

He was tired of it too.

There was only so many times he could say it without getting annoyed at her (not that she cared if he did, because really, every bad thing he said to her went in one ear, got filtered out, and flew out the other). He was tired of disappointing her –even though he knew he really shouldn't care.

Sometimes he actually _liked_ having her around, just because she managed to say some interesting things in her rage; but more than that, his shoulders seemed to lighten a bit whenever she was around. There was no need to feel so defensive to the world, because really, what was she going to do?

More than that, he could be silent with her. (It's not as if he could talk anyways, the amount of words that tumble out of her mouth on a hourly –daily basis)

And really, what more could he want in a traveling companion?

Though there really were times she wanted to yell at him.

His impassive face was sometimes more than she could bear, and she could only bear so much. So every once in a while, she wonders why she stays with him.

He wonders why she stays with him, because there's really no reason for her to.

He'll ask her every once in a while, in his own way. Mostly, he just throws snarky comments at her when she complains about the food or the ground or the walks. Casually –bordering on rude –he'll tell her to leave.

She can't stand him when he says that, because she gets all defensive and then her resolve fortifies into a war castle. The words that swarm out of her mouth are almost indiscernible, but they're always something along the lines of how she has rights and that her strength and perseverance will keep her till the end.

Really, he didn't even ask.

But the end of his mouth quivers ever so slightly –almost a smile is what she'd call it, if she could even see it, but she can't, so she doesn't; and so he doesn't.

And nothing productive ever happens.

Travelers they pass and residents of towns and cities they walk through call them an unusual pair. Most believe they were forced together through unfortunate circumstances. Maybe something as old-fashioned as an arranged marriage, but whatever it is, they must not be enjoying each other's company, it's simply not possible.

Those people can never really see clearly enough.

Both of them understand that when taking all the layers away (his being harder than hers), all the coldness and the heartlessness; stripping away all the innocence and tempers, they're really both the same.

In a world as cruel as this, there is only room for reality.

And they built on that, and formed… _this_.

Whatever _this_ was.

They never even _touched_ each other. Careful of each other's presence, and weary, they were. The only kind of fighting that ever ensued was through words. And really, if words hurt worse than sticks and stones, he would've been dead by now.

They really were an unusual pair.

Besides that, there really was no need to linger on such unimportant subject because in the end he'd always refer to her as 'that pesky girl' and she'd refer to him as 'that cold bastard.'

Overall, things were going pretty well for both of them.

Yes, they were pragmatic. What needed to be done needed to be done; there simply was no way to get around that. So for both of their sanities, they traveled with each other. Well, more so for the sake of _her_ sanity than his, but really, he'd much prefer that she stayed though it's not something you'd ever hear him admit.

Cold hard facts weighed them down.

Even in their… _relationship_.

_God_, she hated that word.

But she would be entirely stupid to reject the idea at all.

He decided there was no need to think too hard about it, there was no big deal for him, the wavering feelings were merely an inconvenience, nothing to worry about too much; and they were always at bay. Years of mastering his self control help tame these nuisance feelings.

In fact, he'd been cold to the world for such a long time now that he didn't even know whether these were feelings at all. To him, it was all just a sort of fondness (which was still an entirely new feeling for him anyways, so in the end it didn't really matter).

Either way, nothing was going to happen…

Was what she'd convinced herself.

But fate is not all too kind.

No… not fate.

If fairytales were not allowed to co-exist with reality, then fate had no right to as well (either way, _something_ wasn't all too kind).

Every time she stared at him too long, she'd get drawn into his eyes, or his lips, or maybe his mouth. It was almost like every time she looked, she noticed something different about him; like how his jaw clenched whenever he saw something a bit too sweet for his taste, or the way his eyebrows rose just a tiny bit higher whenever she mentioned how hungry she was (and she can't spot an almost smile?)

Those thoughts were dangerous though. Fortunately, her common sense would snap her out of it. Her head had no business up in the air. There was no time for her to be up there when there were so many things to do down here (like keeping up with his long strides, for example).

Yes, that's right.

Realists.

That's what they were.

Neither of them allowed the other to be anything else.

Except…

Sometimes.

_Sometimes_.

They'd both believe in fairytales.


	6. Dancing

**Author's Note:** I kind of like being vague, it puts a very nice touch in my writing, I think. Well, I'm trying to ramp up updates on this story because it's been more than a year and I only have four chapters, yes, very sad. Happy reading anyhow.

_I feel like dancing tonight  
__I'm gonna party like it's my civil right  
__It doesn't matter where I don't care if people stare  
_'_Cause I feel like dancing tonight  
__-I Feel Like Dancin', All Time Low_

**Dancing**

Ever since she was a young girl, Hikari would dance.

She'd dance with everything (but of course she was no expert); the wind, the trees, the every-so-often butterfly that would flutter along, she'd just move with it. It was her own way of throwing everything into the air.

No one knew about this tendency of hers (well, maybe except her trusty Piplup) for it was well hidden away and nothing really seemed to bring it out anymore.

But she never forgot that feeling of the breeze sweeping past her face and weaving through her hair. The way her skirt would flare around her and the feeling of falling, but not really. It was just, she was no girl anymore.

She was practically an adult now, and it just seemed to lessen her will to dance. She supposed it was what came with growing up; a very sad thought indeed.

Nothing motivated her to move the way she did when she was 10 and she felt that if she tried, it wouldn't feel the same. Not the way it did back then.

Sometimes, she'd feel as though her feet were lead, too heavy to lift off the ground –never being able to float again; she supposed it wasn't a _bad_ feeling, it was just a very boring one. Staying at home, after all, was never very fun, especially for a girl –woman like her.

She supposes that it got a bit better when she started following Shinji around. Why he would even let her do it was beyond her, but he didn't seem to care, so she didn't question. After all, at least she was out of the house and seeing the world again.

Still, though, it just felt as though she was his shadow; just attached to his feet (and the ground) and never being able to feel _free_. Not that she ever complained about it, who knows what he would've done if she even _tried_, though the way they both saw it, it was a bit of a privilege for him to be taking her on his journeys (not that she'd ever admit it).

Life was very uneventful.

And most importantly, she didn't feel like dancing.

Which, really, is the most important part.

She remembers one moment during their travels when she sighed rather loudly (purposefully of course, she just _loved_ his attention). Of course, he didn't respond as well as she had hoped; just with his usual eye roll she caught in the corner of her eye.

'How long have we been _walking_?' she had asked.

'Obviously not long enough if we haven't hit town yet.' He responded coolly through almost gritted teeth.

Really, this was almost _too _easy.

'Can't we take a break?' she whined back (after all, she _was_ carrying her Piplup along with all her belongings). She sometimes amazed herself with how well she knew him (which was more that most people, though maybe not everything).

He continued walking, pretending he didn't hear her.

'This is ridiculous,' she snapped, 'we've been walking for _hours_ and my feet _hurt_, plus we're almost out of _water_.'

'If you're so bored, why don't you just go play in a meadow or something?' he drawled back.

And sometimes, it also amazed her how well he knew her (which was more than most people, though maybe not everything).

'Let's go look for Drifloons, I here they're around here on some days.' She suggested, 'I've always wanted to see one; and maybe if we ask nicely, it'll fly us where we want to go.'

'Stupid girl, they're too small to hold both of us.'

She bit her lip, trying to cover a smile, liking how he had said it wouldn't be able to hold _both_ of them.

'I bet they'd look absolutely _breathtaking_ against the blue sky this time of year.' She continued, 'I should probably catch one, just for kicks.' Her Piplup made a noise of disagreement with this knowing that more Pokemon meant less attention on himself.

Shinji didn't respond.

'Hey, _hey_, let's play in that field of flowers over there!' She pointed, the lush colors of pinks and bright blues intertwining with a symphony of other colors. Piplup chirped in agreement.

'Why don't _you_ go play in the field of flowers?' he stated, 'while I just wait in a luxury hotel in the next town over.'

At least he didn't have any plans of going any further without her.

'This is getting ridiculous,' she stopped and planted her hands (well her one free hand) on her hips, 'even cold-hearted bastards need to know how to relax every once in a while.'

'What's more ridiculous is 19 year-old girls talking about flying with Drifloons.'

'Would you like to bet?'

'Would you like to try?'

She laughed.

It's ten minutes later and they still haven't passed the flowers.

Hikari just continues to longingly look and imagines the soft grass under her bare feet and the breeze making her hair tickle her face.

Pause.

'Let's dance.'

'Let's not.'

She grabs his hand and turns him to look at her.

'I want to dance.'

She stares at him pointedly.

He does his trademark eye roll and breathing out of his nose and she almost thinks that he's actually going to dance with her (which was not the point of her asking, by the way, the point was to say something silly to him and get him annoyed).

Instead, he twirls her once and let's go of her hand.

'There, you've danced with me.'

He turns his back on her and she stares, dumbstruck at the back of his receding head.

She blinks a few times to make sure something like this _actually happened_, before her closed mouth twitches up into a small smirk –or smile, she's not quite sure, and runs to catch up to him.

The flowers taunt her, weaving a tale of what could've been, what she could've gone back to.

Back to a time when the rustling leaves was her orchestra and the dirt underneath her was her stage. Where the wild Pokemon were her audience and the howling wind their cheers.

She still misses the breeze and her flaring dress; and she definitely misses the feeling of not-really-falling.

But she decides it's nothing compared to the fullness of her heart and the breath that rushes out of her lungs when she's with him.

Yes.

She definitely prefers this dance over that.


End file.
